


The Night Before

by Mostly_Harmony



Category: The Rook (TV 2019)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Seduction, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-25 02:27:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20716568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mostly_Harmony/pseuds/Mostly_Harmony
Summary: Robert Gestalt drives Myfanwy Thomas home from the Court Christmas Party... to "borrow some books"...





	1. Punch Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> This is a chapter I had cut from my rewrite of Daniel O'Malley's novel "The Rook" in my fanfic adaptation titled The Two Rooks.
> 
> I'm posting it here in honour of the 69th fic for this fandom... if anyone would like to collaborate with me to write what happens next? Please let me know! I'm thinking 2 chapters more would be good... :)

Eckhart's entirely over-helpful son had been refilling Myfanwy's punch glass more often than the Grantchester's wait staff. The two of them were sunk down in a sofa giggling over some inanity while I gritted my teeth and fulfilled the bare minimum of my social obligations. Eventually, I couldn't stand it anymore. Without conscious thought I was suddenly standing over the sofa, ignoring Richard Eckhart entirely.

"You drove the red car, didn't you?" (Teddy)  
"You're drunk. I'll drive you home." (Alex)  
Myfanwy blinked up at me. "Unmm, yeah... uh Gestalt, have you met--"  
She started to wave her hand towards her seatmate, but I interrupted her ruthlessly. "If I have, or not, it's hardly relevant." I cast him a disinterested look, pleased to see him frowning with irritation.  
"Come on, Thomas. You're working tomorrow."  
"Uh, yesh... I mean, yes. I am," she said very precisely, wobbling a little as she stood up. Richard made a move to help her but froze under the force of my glare (Teddy) as I reached out and slipped my arm around Myfanwy's waist (Alex).

I bore her determinedly out the door while she waved goodbyes over my shoulders. I was already waiting at the car (Robert). Sliding into the driver's seat I threw myself the keys and carefully helped her into her seat. The sportscar was so low slung that she was practically sitting on the ground. I reached across her body to put her belt on (Eliza). 

Unexpectedly she grabbed my hand and held me there, as I leant into the car.

"Gestalt," she said, with the earnestness of the very intoxicated. "Why are you helping me?"  
Our faces were close together. I could feel the sweet and fruity wafts of her breath against my mouth. I looked at her for a moment. She stared back, cocking her head to the side as she narrowed her eyes at me. "You... you don't normally do this..."

"You're not normally stupid enough to let a random guy get you drunk." I whispered, without moving away.  
"Hey!" She said, then faltered, her eyes filling. "He was... just... nice."  
For some reason this innocent comment filled me with rage... and perhaps... _jealousy_? I couldn't be sure. I'd never _felt_ this emotion before. I jerked upright and slammed the door. Accelerating rapidly, I wove through the back streets in silence.

There was a stifled sniff from beside me. I glanced at her but she had her face turned away from me. 

I had never been inside Myfanwy's nineteenth century, beautifully kept, house. Parking the car, I leapt out and made my way around to open the passenger door and help her out. 

Myfanwy sat with her arms crossed looking a little like a sulky toddler. "I don't need help. I just need time."

I bit back a smile. "Be that as it may, _I_ don't have time. I didn't just bring you home to be helpful. I need to borrow some books."

"Books?"

"Don't sound so surprised. I do read, you know."

  
Emotions flickered across her translucent skin. She was wondering if she'd made a fool of herself. Making sense of my intervention with Richard, from another angle.

"Oh," she whispered. "Why didn't you say so? And what, is so urgent you need it tonight?"

She put her hand in mine. The soft delicate skin on my calloused palm sent shivers through me. "Neuroanatomy. And child delopment."

"What?"

"Those are the topics I need your help with. But if this is too difficult, when you're drunk..."

"I am a little tipsy," she admitted.

I laughed out loud at that. I watched her take a deep breath, saw the kittenish anger in her eyes.

"I am not drunk. YOU are exaggerating."

"Perhaps you're right," I soothed. I had thought that dropping her home using Robert's body, a body so used to human sexual intimacy, would have diluted the effect she had on me. Contrarily, though, I only felt more drawn to her than ever. Parts of my body that needed to stay calm were waking up...

Myfanwy stopped walking halfway up the front steps and I stopped with her; she turned to examine my expression.

"Are you being... sarcastic? Gestalt?" 

I looked steadily at her. Drinking in the sharp cheekbones, the sweet curve of her mouth.

"I'm rarely sarcastic, Rook Thomas." 

She laughed shortly. "No. I don't think you get it when I use sarcasm, either." 

"I understand it. I just don't find it amusing."

She raised one eyebrow. I fumbled with her keys and unlocked the front door. Myfanwy's house was lovely, beautifully designed and decorated and packed full of interesting things. Along the walls were tall bookcases crammed with books. I found myself wanting to explore everything, to learn more about her.

Steadying herself with a hand on the wall, Myfanwy made her way along the hall, pulling some books off the shelves and stacking them in my arms. They were mostly textbooks, and a couple of scientific journals on the nervous system and neuroanatomy.

She looked up at me. "What topic specifically, about child development?"

"Research on neurosequential brain development." I responded promptly.

"Okay..." she was thinking. "I think I have a good book for you... it's upstairs."

I followed her up the stairs and into her bedroom where she rummaged on yet another bookshelf and placed a final publication on the stack I was holiding. 

Suddenly, her eyes widened as she looked at me and around at the intimate setting where we found ourselves. Her pupils dilated. 

"So," she squeaked. "I think that's it."

I knew I should leave.

Instead, I carefully settled the books on the dresser near the door and leaned on the door jamb. "Maybe you can give me a crash course? I will read these... but if you could summarise?"

"Um, sure!" Her voice was high and breathy. She tried to step back but stumbled a little and landed on her bed. The preadator in me was growling to move forward, press her into the bed and take pleasure in her sweetness.

"The way the brain develops can be summarised like this: Brain 1, the brain stem, takes centre stage from 0-6 months. From then up to two years, Brain 2, the cerebellum - the centre of movement and coordination, develops the most." She was speaking quickly, her body tensed as though getting ready to push herself up off the bed and run away. I forced myself to stay where I was. Body still, quiet and calm. At least outwardly.

I was biting my nails (Teddy), brushing my teeth in rapid, rythmic circles for an unnecessarily long time (Eliza) and forgetfully re-shampooing my freshly washed hair (Alex).

Myfanwy was still talking. "Brain 3, the limbic system or emotional brain, ‘comes online’ between 18 months and two years. But it's not until a child is around the age of seven, that Brain 4, the frontal cortex, moves into centre stage development. When Brain 3 is in control: you're dictated principally feelings, and Brain 4 takes a lot longer to develop. Female brains on average are mature at about age 18. Most males don't have a fully mature brain until about 30..."

I smiled at her. The flow of words came to a stop and she just stared at me. I took a step towards her. "Are you saying that men are developmentally more delayed?"

"Um..."

"Because I would agree." I took another step. "Richard Eckhart, for example... in his early twenties... still very underdeveloped in his reasoning."

She shook her head as if to clear it and looked up at me again. "You almost sound... jealous, Gestalt..."

I was standing over her now. I slid my hands under her arms and lifted her further on to the bed. She didn't resist, just licked her dry lips to moisten them.

"Why would I be jealous, Rook Thomas?" I moved onto the bed with her, laying her back and holding my body over hers, without bringing them together.  
  
"I, honestly, don't know?" Myfanwy breathed. I smiled again and slowly moved back, running my hands down her sides until I came to the hem of the shapeless dress she'd worn to the party.

"I see you decided against another Grantchester-seducing outfit?" I slid my fingers under the hem and up her thighs till I reached the waistband of her underwear. "Were you hoping to not get my attention either?" 

The air was thick between us. She was breathing hard and my body was strung tight. My hands were still. Waiting. An unspoken question in the air between us.

She sucked in some air and whispered..."I like your attention... Gestalt."

I swallowed hard at the words. I slid down the restrictive piece of clothing. She lifted herself to give me access. 

All of my bodies were breathing heavily now. I tried to restrict the trembling of my limbs to the three bodies at home in my apartment but my hands shook a little as I slid my hands beneath her and drew her close. 


	2. Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks heaps to @JLKnox for being an amazing Beta Reader and giving great advice for this chapter! Any mistakes in this version are my own.
> 
> Disclaimer: dubious consent and drunk seduction

Holding Myfanwy's fragile body in my hands I was struck by her mixture of strength and vulnerability. Even kneeling on the bed between her legs I could feel the physical power I had over her. But her hands, where they rested on my shoulders were sending some sort of electrical current fizzing through all of my bodies. Lamps flickered around us as she stared up at me. "Where did this come from?"

Instead of answering, I redirected. "You know this is what _Richard. Fucking. Eckhart. _was thinking about all night, right? --Imagining you like this. Did you really not see why he was plying you with spiked punch?"

In the low lamplight of her bedroom I could see blushing embarrassment as it swept her face. "I... well..." she said doubtfully. 

I stretched out a finger and drew along her fragile jaw line. Cupping my hand under her chin, I brushed the silky curtain of hair back from her flushed face. Moving closer still, I could feel the warmth of her breath on my mouth. 

She reciprocated; leaning her face closer to mine, a slight smile on her lips. "Were _you_? Were you thinking about this all night?"

I shouldn't reply. It was dangerous to be vulnerable.

"No."

She flinched at the word, her eyes clouding. All humor gone from her expression.

"Not _ just_ all night," I continued, recklessly. My voice deeper than usual. "More, like every night. All week. All year. Every year. I think about this... and everywhere I could touch you... kiss you."

She measured my expression for a long moment. "Don't mock me, Gestalt."

"Mockery," I said, "is the furthest thing from my mind." 

Cool and trembling, three of my bodies lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling. All of the heat was in the fourth body. None of my fantasies had prepared me for the reality of this moment. All of the practiced sexual prowess of Robert's body had fled. Instead, my hands shook with emotion. 

Sliding Myfanwy's skirt up to her waist, I ran my hands along her soft skin and listened to her catch her breath. I traced a calloused finger over an old scar on her inner left thigh.

"How did this happen?" I asked. My voice sounded hoarse. I leaned into her, and applied a gentle kiss to the raised surface of the scar.

"Um...I fell out of a tree... when I was nine... impaled my leg..." 

I kissed the smooth unmarked skin of her other thigh. "Poor thing..." I murmured, feeling uncharacteristically moved by the thought of a tiny, nervous, Myfanwy hurt in any way.

She giggled. "Gestalt... you probably have a thousand worse scars than that..."

I nodded, though she had closed her eyes and wouldn't see it. "Yeah... I do... but I'll bet none of them hurt me as much as this hurt you." I traced my fingers along the line from one thigh to the other, feeling the fine bones beneath her skin.

I followed that line with my mouth, then moved lower still. Pleased when she arched her body in response, a small moan of pleasure escaping her mouth. I took my time. Using my tongue and my lips, feather light touch, firm pressure. Thankfully every trick I'd learned with other faceless, nameless women, came naturally. Muscle memory coming to my aid. Because my brain felt like it had shut down. All I could do was feel, and I had never ever felt anything like this before. 

I was attuned to her responses, learning what she liked from the way she writhed or went still. My own need was a low, searing ache of longing. I pursued her pleasure with the same singlemindedness I pursued anything worth achieving and she melted under my touch, shuddering, gasping and eventually crying out and clutching my shoulders with both hands. 

"Oh my god, Gestalt," she whispered, her voice as shaky as her body. "Oh my _god_!" 

I paused and looked up at her. A small smile played around her lips, her eyelashes lay long and dark in a quiet crescent, one eyebrow twitched with an emotion I couldn't identify. 

I was harder than I'd ever been. Consumed by an inferno of taste and touch. Desperate for her. But... she was still drunk... or at least tipsy. 

With a big effort I slid off the bed and stood up. 

Her eyes flew open. 

I reached down and scooped up the lacy underwear I'd dropped on the floor earlier, slipping them into the inner pocket of my suit coat. 

She sat up. 

I turned and walked away. A little unsteady on my feet. 

Glancing back I saw her mouth open, but no words came out. Yearning for her to protest, to draw me back into her embrace, I found myself smiling ruefully. 

I fished out the key to my flat and gently placed it on the dresser as I scooped up the stack I'd left there. 

"Thanks for the books!" I said over my shoulder. I didn't dare look back again, or all my self control would be gone. Dialling the number for a taxi, I practically ran from the building. Out into the crisp evening air.


End file.
